My first ever job was to go around the church in the evening with a watering can, connecting it to the clear plastic tube hidden beneath each piano and filling it up. They needed this to stay in tune. I did this for all of them except the one in the big empty sanctuary where my brother took lessons. His tiny melodies faded into traffic passing outside as I left the sanctuary behind. Darkened bulletin boards in the hall. Sometimes in the rooms I went to there would be shiny black crickets and sometimes they would chirp. Always there was a piano. One of my parents expressed concern for my work, a child patrolling an unlocked building at night, and yes the rooms were dark but they were vacant. I was never given keys. Whoever I was not supposed to encounter stayed in that world of traffic and dusk outside which I was not supposed to inhabit. But I imagined a man who sat on a piano bench in the dark, waiting with the crickets that had wandered in from the fields of that world, who now dwelled inside the church with him forever.